Porcelain doll
by SkyeElf
Summary: Daphne's sick and tired of having to be perfect, and that was why she left. She didn't expect to find Harry Potter, yet he was the perfect person to hide with. Her father wouldn't find her with him. Thus she stayed. Rated M for later chapters, for lemons, suicide attempts and language. Daphne's 17, Harry 16. HBP AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The idea that's been floating around in my head for a while now. I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to write this, but I did.**

**Rated M for later chapters, as it were, you were warned.**

**I don't own Harry Potter, and I won't say it again. **

**Warnings:**

**This an AU fic, some slight bashing in this, I'm not generally a fan of bashing, but yeah.**

**Language.**

**I expect Harry to be OOC at times.**

**Each chapter is inspired by a different song, this one's inspired by "Porcelain Doll" by Michelle Chrisette, as was the title of the fic. I don't own the song either.**

**Chapter 1: Porcelain doll.**

Daphne stormed out of the manor, being careful not to trip and hit her head on the many stairs the manor had, her blonde hair, not yet combed from her quick departure, swung wildly as she pulled her night-shirt into its correct position.

She reached the bottom of the marble staircase and slung her bag angrily around her neck, not caring if anything fell out or if it strangled her at that point. All she cared for was her wand and her books, the latter she always kept at Tracey's house and for a reason, and her quick leave showed her that this was not in vain.

She was done, she was out; she was sick and tired of the trouble that came with her being a pureblood. She was expected to be perfect, expected to strive to be what her mother and her grandmother had been: cold-hearted to the outside world, fascist and somewhat bombastic – or that was the mask they gave to the outside world.

A certainty that they were simply… better. Not just for the reason of the blood pumping through their veins, it was accompanied by not only a superior taste in things, but also a well-endowed heritage and a bulging pocket filled with gold and other monetary items.

She was expected to be a background character in the story of her own life, and that was what had insulted her mostly. She was the narrator of her life, and the life of a politician's wife didn't seem very enticing.

No climax would ever find her, whether it was in the story line or in bed, were she so bold. These politician's wives knew how to go out with a facade in place, that likely counted in the bedroom too.

The motoric moment, the dramatic exposition, would be missing from her life. She'd have to watch another have an adventure; another would be the protagonist…

She was expected to want to sit on a shelf like some frail doll. That was the problem, she didn't want to sit on a shelf and gather dust. Like her mother had.

Her mother had once been a beautiful girl, much like Daphne, but she'd accepted her father's orders of marriage and blending in.

But she wasn't having it, any of it. She was not a wallflower, she wasn't meant to blend in with the background. She was meant to stand out – and she would, she herself would see to it.

She glared back at the majestic house that she'd known as a home since childhood. Her heart pained the tiniest bit as she thought of her younger sister, Astoria, but shook it off.

Astoria had a mind of her own, she could make her own decisions, there was a reason the younger sister was in Ravenclaw.

It was early, the blinding golden rays of the sun just hit the sky mere minutes ago. The sky was azure, no white puff in sight, the grass moist from the dew.

She wasn't paying attention to any of it, her bare feet trudging on the grass, a scowl in place.

That morning she'd woken up with her father calling for her, inviting her downstairs. She'd been in her pajamas when she finally did care to show up downstairs.

Her father hadn't been alone. There was another man, two others in reality, with him. She recognised one immediately.

He turned around to look at her, a nervous grin in place. He was clearly as uncomfortable as she was. She greeted him the way she always did, with a light embrace.

"Blaise, what're you doing here?" She asked him softly before offering Mr Zabini a greeting. Mr Zabini's eyes swept over her, as did her father's. She expected to be rebuked for not being dressed when they had guests, but it didn't come. She was dressed in a T-shirt and boyshorts, her usual pajamas, her father didn't approve of it though. Privately he would, but not when they had guests.

"She will make a fine wife," Mr Zabini nodded his approval. Blaise flushed scarlet as Daphne's mouth fell open.

"What?" She heard herself ask, her voice a bit higher than normally.

She immediately

Her father fixed a stern gaze on her, one she wholly ignored.

"You're set to marry Blaise, it's stipulated in the marriage contract we drew up shortly after your birth," Mr Greengrass said nonchalantly, waving his hand through the air as though it was just a bypassing subject.

Daphne gazed at Blaise, whose look told her he hadn't known about this rule until at the very least that morning.

"No." She said in a cold voice, her pureblood mask sliding into place. Her father should be proud of it, it was flawless.

They wanted her to be cold-hearted and brutal? They've got it, because there was no way she was marrying her best friend.

"Daphne, the matter doesn't concern you." Mr Greengrass said icily.

"Doesn't concern me?" She gasped, "You want me to bed my best friend? You want me to make and brood perfect little children? Not a chance." She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"It's either marriage to him, or to be thrown out of the house and disinhereted. It's ultimately your choice." Mr Greengrass said, clearly expecting her to choose the former.

Daphne considered her options. She looked at Blaise, and the look he was giving her was a pleading look. She didn't know what he was pleading for, though.

She thought back on how his hands felt when he swept them over her body. Bshe shivered. Horrible. He never understood why it was wrong, but she did. She didn't call him out on it, mostly to avoid conflict, but it nauseated her. She has a way out now.

Mr. Zabini would understand, he was a rather kind individual, a lot kinder than Mr. Greengrass could ever hope to be. He was already eyeing her father with reproach. She felt a surge of affection for him.

"Please, Greengrass, we can always still go into business together," Mr. Zabini tried. Blaise visibly relaxed.

"No, she should decide what's of importance to her." Mr. Greengrass held his ground, his strong jaw set.

Daphne'd known what was important to her a long time ago. And pureblood nuances and mannerisms wasn't one of them. Nor was her father's feelings.

She grinned at her father, who took this as a good sign. She turned heel, and jogged up the stairs, leaving the three men confused.

In her bedroom she searched for her wand, her hairbrush, a photograph of herself and her sister, a few items of clothing and the necessities, all her books and school items were at Tracey's house - a wise decision, in her opinion, her journal and stuffed it into a bag she had. As an afterthought she shoved some of the money she had in her possession and the jewelry she'd been gifted over the years (she kept it in a magically enlarged case) into the bag and forced it shut. She didn't care for the trinkets, but she would need money to live, and she was certain the trinkets would gather up something.

She glanced back at her room one last time before she shut the door firmly, casting a charm on the room to remain both unharmed and locked, even from Astoria.

She made her way down the stairs again, walked up to the three men and made a small bow.

"I shan't be marrying Blaise, papa," She said in a child's voice, "I shall be leaving the manor at once." She gave her father a military salute before turning to her best friend.

"I'm sorry, Blasie, I can't marry you." She smiled at him, knowing he'd understand her usage of his nickname would make him understand that he was still her best friend. He drew her closer and embraced her.

"Thank you," He whispered into her ear, pressing a slight kiss to her pale cheek.

"And Mr. Zabini..." She looked at the older wizard. "Well, thank you for trying." She nodded to him over Blaise's shoulder.

She let Blaise go, her hand lingering in his briefly, before marching out the door and down the marble stairs.

As she said, she was not going to be put on a shelf to gather dust.

She would never be able to love Blaise the way he deserved to be loved, her heart would always be yearning for more. Blaise was a dear, but he wasn't hers.

She disapparated once she was outside the boundaries, having passed her test only two months prior.

She hated the feeling of being pressed into a void, a suffocating darkness that left her breathless.

Opening her eyes, she wondered where she was. She'd been focusing on Diagon Alley, but she certainly wasn't there - the street she was in lacked any magical qualities whatsoever.

Even with the Dark Lord's rise, the street would have at least some people in it, this one had none whatsoever.

Looking around she spotted a small plate with a street name on it. Sadly, this tiny plate was so old and exposed to the elements that she could just make out the 't' at the end of the street's name.

She didn't know where to go. Anywhere was better than her, now previous, home. She could go to Tracey's, but that was where they'd look for her first. Or in Diagon Alley, as a matter of fact, so this mishap with the apparating was actually a blessing in disguise.

Her father wouldn't let her go that easily, she knew, he'd search for her until he talked her into marrying Blaise, he was just that damn persuasive. Even if Mr. Zabini did support her, her father could do wonders with words.

She should go to the last place they'd think of.

She groaned, that meant she'd have to hide with a Gryffindor. Mr Greengrass wouldn't know of her policy of respecting all houses, he'd think she'd stay as far away from them as she possibly could.

It was the perfect solution, yet one problem remained at the surface of her mind: she wasn't exactly friendly with the lions, and she had no idea where to find one short of visiting the African fields.

She sighed inwardly, she hadn't thought this through. There was a reason Astoria was the Ravenclaw between them, after all.

She decided to start walking until she saw some people and could ask them where she was. She didn't even care that she was in her pajamas and had no shoes on.

Soon Daphne found herself out of the business area and a suburb with houses that looked annoyingly alike.

The bourgeoisie lived her, striving for a perfection they'd never reach, in a way similar to the purebloods.

The difference was that the purebloods believed they'd attained perfection, avoiding the fact that they were inbred, corrupt and insane at odd intervals. Bellatrix Lestrange alone was proof of the previous statement.

She saw a park nearby. It was a perfect place to wait for the people of the suburb to wake up. Someone had to make their way to the park, or at least past it, somewhere in the day, then she would ask them.

She walked to the side of the park, situating herself under a tree for shade.

She didn't know how long she waited, but she must've fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew a large shadow was standing over her.

She looked up, her eyes half-shut from both the sun shining brightly and having just woken up.

It wasn't just the shadow that was huge, it was it's owner too. A large boy, looking to be about her age, sixteen, was looking down at her.

"You're new," Said boy grunted, his eyes swimming over her scantily clad body, much like _his_ would.

She nodded her head, her hand grasping her wand tightly. His eyes flickered to the movement, and his eyes rested on her wand.

It seemed to frighten him, because he stood back a centimetre. Then he offered her his beefy hand.

"You need help," He said, his grunting gone, a new light shining behind his eyes, "I won't hurt you, I swear." She swore it was intellegence that was shining from behind those eyes.

Reluctantly she accepted his hand. He pulled her to her feet (and a few feet into the air) before letting go of her quickly and motioning for her to follow him. She grabbed her bag, slinging it around her neck, ignored the slightly burning sensation her bag chafing against her neck and followed him.

"You need to get out of sight, Harry said something about _him _being back." The large boy told her over his shoulder.

"Harry?" She asked, "Not Harry Potter, surely? What'd he be doing in a muggle city?" She'd assumed that the wizard would've been cared for by a long list of suitors, provided with only the best. Much like herself.

Who this "him" was, wasn't a riddle exactly.

The large boy didn't answer her, but kept going. She decided, out of curiosity, to continue following him.

He came to a stop at one of the houses, opened the gate and stood aside for her to go in. Surprised by his gallantry, she entered.

Perhaps this man was related to Potter somehow?

"I'm Dudley, by the way." He said offhandedly at the front door, opening it for her too.

"Dudley, is that you?" A woman's voice called as they stepped inside.

"Yes, mum!" He answered, "Is Harry in his room?"

"Yes, sweetie," The woman appeared in the kitchen, donning a peach, flowery dress, "Who's this?" The thin woman seemed to be torn between being delighted and being distraught. She possibly thought Daphne was Dudley girlfriend, yet she had very little on.

"Greengrass?" A disbelieving voice called. Daphne's eyes slid up the stairs to find the golden boy waiting, his wand pointed at her.

"Put that away, Boy!" The lady in peach called. Harry rolled his eyes at her reaction as he ran down the stairs, not taking his wand off her.

"The first thing you ever said to me?" He demanded, his wand amazingly still. She scanned her memory, their first encounter had been in second year when she'd run into him.

"'You broke my copper scales'," She said, "Even if I'd been the one to run into you..."

"Where'd you find her, Dudley?" He ignored her second sentence, causing her to pout relentlessly. She was grateful when his eyes didn't seem to undress her.

"In the park. I saw the stick and knew she was one of your sort..." Dudley trailed off.

"Thanks, Big D," Harry half-grinned, taking Daphne's wrist and pulling her up the stairs with him.

He led her to a small bedroom, closed the door behind them and trained his wand on her again.

"What do you want?" He demanded from her.

"A place to hide," She admitted, her pureblood teachings failing her, "but I can see it's a bit rough here..."

"What are you hiding from?" He asked, his voice not having changed at all.

"My father." She answered honestly. "He was trying to get me to marry Blaise..." Among other things, she added silently.

"So you came here?" He sounded skeptical.

"No!" She replied hotly, "I attempted to go to Diagon Alley! But I somehow ended up a few blocks from here!" She nearly growled. "And how would I even know where you lived?"

"Listen, I'll leave if it's such a big bother to you!" She tried, but realising that this was the best solution to her problem. Who would think of looking for her with the golden boy?

"You don't need to. The problem is, Greengrass, my family hates me and they'll hate you for not only associating with me, but also carrying one of those things," He motioned to her wand, finally lowering his own.

She nodded, satisfied, putting her wand in her bag.

"Thank you." She silently wondered why his family hated him - he was Harry bloody Potter! It only made sense that the Dark Lord and his followers hated Potter. And the Slytherins. And some of the other students. And Snape. All right, the list was getting long.

But her pureblood teachings taught her one good thing: tact. For that she was grateful, or she'd have blurted the question of why without thought of consequence. She imagined that he was quite used to it, Weasley had no tact whatsoever, but she knew better.

Potter started to clear his bed of books and parchment, tossing the items on his already dirty floor.

She'd noticed the dim lighting in his bedroom and the general mess it was in.

"Don't you ever clean, Potter?" She demanded, poking a piece of clothing with her toe. He sent her a glare over his shoulder before continuing.

"There, put your bag down. I'm going for a walk," He motioned to the now clean bed before heading towards his bedroom door.

"You can't leave me alone in here!" She shrieked, throwing her bag down on his bed. "And what about the Dark Lord?"

"Well, Greengrass, I don't plan on spending the entire day with you in my bedroom!" He replied hotly, crossing his arms. "And Voldemort can't touch me here."

"But what do I do?" She noticed how small she sounded, and she hated it. She didn't wince at the Dark Lord's name - it was what she called him in her head.

"You get dressed, for one, Dudley couldn't stop ogling you," He said, "then I suggest you introduce yourself to the people downstairs, you'll be staying in their house for goodness knows how long."

She paled - if her father knew how she'd acted in anyone else's house, she'd have gotten one of his legendary tongue lashings.

"All right." She agreed as he exited the room to give her some privacy. She quickly changed into a pair of dark trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, some of the only items that were muggle-made that her parents had allowed her. Correction, her father had allowed her. Her mother wasn't exactly there, she just stayed in the background.

She drew the brush through her hair before leaving the room, pondering why her mother was such a vacant maternal figure.

She was surprised to find him waiting for her, leaning against the wall lazily.

"Don't get your hopes up, I'm here to help you deal with the Dursleys," He told her, guiding her down the stairs again.

"Always the Gryffindor, aren't you, Potter?" She taunted him.

"I was almost one of you, Greengrass, don't forget I can become equally vicious and violent." He said in a sweet voice, matching it with a smile. She was convinced he'd have made a fine Slytherin, even if Gryffindor simply fit him better. He was brave, more than any Slytherin she knew was, and he valued chivalry. He could teach the Slytherin boys a thing or two.

Dudley was waiting for them. Harry looked up at his cousin, a frown crossing his features.

"Thank you," Daphne piped up, trying not to be intimidated by his size. He nodded down at her.

"Why, Dudley?" Potter asked his cousin, confused from what Daphne could tell.

"Last year, Harry, you - you saved me." Dudley said.

She watched as Potter's expression softened. Dudley stuck out a hand towards Potter. The latter eyed it, unsure, before accepting it.

The two boys shook.

She was right, she thought. She'd always assmued that Potter had a thing for saving people, and here was proof. It was obvious he didn't feel much for his cousin, but still he saved him.

"Where's your mum?" Potter asked. Dudley jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

"I'm Daphne," Daphne introduced herself, offering a hand to Dudley. "I'm a..."

"Friend of Harry's?" Dudley guessed, taking her hand. She nodded, knowing full well what she and Potter was certainly wasn't friends, they weren't even acquaintances! To the outside world they hated one another with every fibre of their being... But she couldn't explain the how and why.

"Pleasure," He replied, surprising Potter.

"What else, Dudley? I didn't know you could speak more than three words!" Potter sounded genuinely surprised.

And Daphne wanted to kick him, he had as much tact as Weasley.

Dudley, however, laughed. "You're never here, Harry..."

Potter shrugged, but grinned. "We should do something, Big D."

"Yes, we should. Now, onto my mother..." He sighed, leading them to the kitchen.

Daphne wasn't frightened of the woman, no, just wary. She was thin and unbelievably bony. Daphne wondered how her son could be so large while she was so thin - it wasn't logical...

"Good day, ma'am," Daphne said brightly as the woman turned to face her, "I'm Daphne Greengrass." She extended a hand to her.

Dudley cleared his throat loudly. Mrs Dursley looked at him, nodded and accepted Daphne's hand briefly.

"Petunia Dursley," She introduced herself, "Are you a friend of Harry's?"

"You could say that." Daphne inclined her head. Potter stood to the side, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Dudley clapped a hand on Potter's shoulder, nearly causing him to fall to the floor.

"Come on," Potter said lowly, eyeing his siblings with distrust before slowly looking up at her, "You and I need to talk."

She hated it when someone said that. It sounded like what Theo'd said just before he broke it off with her.

It was silly of her to remember it, but she did. What was more, she didn't miss Theodore. She didn't get attached to boys, she was still young, after all.

She flashed Mrs. Dursley another bright smile before following the Gryffindor out the front door.

"Dumbledore's visiting in a few days," He started as she fell into step next to him, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm going to the Weasleys for the rest of the summer."

She didn't answer, she didn't know what to say.

She knew Dumbledore would find a place for her to stay, but she couldn't count on it.

"Don't worry, Potter, I'll be out of your hair soon enough," She reassured him with a lie. He snorted in reply.

"For a Slytherin, you're an awful liar." He spat.

"I'm sorry for whatever I've done to you, Potter, but why do you insist on being such a bigot?"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"I don't mean to, I'm sorry," He said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "It's just been hard."

"It's fine, Potter."

"Why'd you leave, Greengrass? I thought you and Zabini were friends?"

No tact. At all.

"None of your business." She heard herself snap at him.

"You're the one that sought help, now you're being short? You know, I didn't need to let you stay."

"I didn't ask for help! Dudley saw me, and my wand, and just took me to your house! I saw you and grabbed the opportunity - who would think to look for me in the home of the great Harry Potter?" She knew she was teetering on the edge, she wouldn't be surprised if Potter decided to give her a fist in the face.

But he didn't, he stayed calm.

"You didn't answer my question." He said lamely, though she didn't miss him setting his jaw.

"Blaise is my best friend and all, but we have no other feelings towards each other." She admitted, "And I don't want to be like every other pureblood woman out there, acting like a perfect little pawn for her husband."

He grinned. "So, it's about the sex?"

No tact. Whatsoever.

"Yes, Potter, because everything in life is about sex." She mocked him. He shrugged, nonchalant. But she knew he was right, if there wasn't any passion in her relationship, she'd be bored. "It's about understanding, Potter. Call me cliched, but I want to want my partner."

"How on earth did we come to the topic of what you want in your relationship? I asked if it was about sex, not what you want."

His words cut her. She felt _his _hands on her body again, that was the reason she didn't attached, that she didn't even feel safe touching herself. All his fault!

She was about to lash back at Harry when she saw him. Really saw him.

His emerald eyes were lacking a certain sparkle, dark circles around his eyes and a sickly pale complexion.

"Are you all right, Potter?" She didn't know why she asked, she didn't care. She blamed curiosity.

"Tired." He said, rubbing his eyes again.

She turned around, making to return to the house they'd just left. He meekly followed her, not saying anything.

...

**A/N: Please review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, I know, posting the second chapter only now is unforgivable. I just took on too much at the same time and time is limited.**

**To answer some questions: 1) This story is rated M because of sexual content, dark themes and suicide. Possibly violence, I haven't decided yet.**

**2) In this fic, Daphne's a year older than Harry is, so he's now in his sixth year and she her seventh. I should've made that clear.**

**3) Dudley's personality change is due to a series of events that will partially be explained in this chapter. I don't want to leave that gap open.**

**4) Moreover, I know Harry was OOC in the first chapter, and he will be OOC in another few chapters, because of a reason I am not going to share, it's part of the story.**

**5) Daphne wasn't discussed all that much in canon, so I'm using my poetic license to give her a character that's different than the usual Ice Queen persona she's been labelled with. No, this Daphne is a bit stranger.**

**As you can see, this fic is rated M, and with good reason (see 1), so if this makes you uncomfortable, I don't suggest you continue to read this.**

**Credit to Batmarcus, who helped with this chapter, who gave me an idea and then was forced to help.**

**Chapter 2: Blue**

Daphne and Harry headed home. He was annoyed with her, she was bothering the plans he'd made for that night; now he had to start all over! He'd wanted to do it before Dumbledore arrived, and now his perfect timing was screwed up!

He was so close, everything had been planned, and now his plans were thrown out the window. Everything had a symbolic meaning, even! He felt like slapping her in the face, but he would never hit a woman.

All the time he'd spent on it… wasted!

A light flickered in his mind. Not… not necessarily. He could go through with it; he just needed to get her asleep before he carried it out. He would borrow some of Aunt Petunia's sleeping pills (if he used his, it would make her an accomplice) and, under the farce of friendship, he'd give her a cup of coffee or tea with the pills dissolved in it. He'd just pour in a lot of sugar to cover the taste.

He gave a rueful smile at his thoughts. This was bad. It was awful. Harry wasn't one to give up easily, he was a Gryffindor; they weren't this cowardly.

If the hero gave up... the battle was already lost. And not just the battle, but with it the entire war.

But enough was enough.

He knew he was acting differently than he acted normally, but now he could blame it on fatigue and insomnia. It wasn't a complete lie, he _was _tired and hadn't slept for nearly two nights, but he was not so tired that he would be nice to Greengrass, who was, in fact, a complete stranger to him. They barely spoke at Hogwarts, and he knew only what he heard.

And they both knew that the rumours spread at Hogwarts weren't something to truly listen to. Harry, the new dark wizard and Daphne, the Zabini slut.

He was distracted. He imagined this was what Hermione felt like most days, her brain busy with solutions for every problem whilst dealing with him and Ron. He felt pity for her; she usually had to get them out of trouble.

He hadn't heard anything from either of his friends all summer. The only letter he'd received was from Dumbledore. Harry had started to believe that his friends had abandoned him – that was what made it easier to start planning. If he was alone, no one would miss him. His relatives certainly wouldn't… okay, Dudley might feel a bit guilty…

In a gallant gesture he opened the door for Daphne to enter before going in himself. A Gryffindor until the last minute.

Vernon Dursley was home. Harry groaned – it was just what he needed: his walrus of an uncle to poke his overcrowded nostrils into this matter. Daphne heard the groan and turned to look at him, raising a playful eyebrow. He scowled, his already shadowed face withdrawing into darkness even more.

"My uncle," Harry explained, gesturing towards the living room. Better face it now than later.

Petunia had already alarmed him to the presence of the girl, it seemed; his face was Harry's favourite shade of red when his uncle spotted them. Harry felt like commenting on it, but the way his uncle's Adam's apple bounced drew his attention away. That thing was huge! Up, down, up, down…

"Boy!" Vernon yelled as it moved up again. Harry didn't feel like being strangled to death at that very moment, so Harry did something that Vernon didn't expect. He drew his eyes away from Vernon's massive Adam's apple and focused on his right eye.

"Boy!" Harry yelled back, shocking his uncle.

"You know how much money we've invested in you? You're an ungrateful little swine that will end up like his drunk of a father, you've been living under our roof, ate our food, used our electricity, hurt our Dudley…" Vernon went off, only for Harry to cut across him.

"Yada yada, bang bang," Harry screamed, making gun gestures at the last two words, "Congratulations, I win a mug of water, Uncle Vernon!"

Harry had no idea what the heck just had happened, but he liked it, and it was funny to boot. He wouldn't have another moment like that again soon, sadly.

Silence reigned victorious in the living room. Uncle Vernon's face wasn't red anymore, and Harry wanted to comment on it, but it was turning a dashing plum that might just become his new favourite colour if things went on this way.

Dudley burst out laughing.

"Harry, that was brilliant!" He whooped, keeping a wary eye on Vernon. Vernon, seeing his son's reaction, relaxed a little bit, seeing as after what had happened at his son's school, Dudley deserved some sort of joy. Why he never came to that conclusion with his nephew, though, was beyond anyone's means of understanding.

Harry stared as his uncle gave no reaction. What was this world coming to? He'd had such a brilliant moment of wit, and now it was to go unpunished?

Harry was feeling as if he could and should do anything he wanted to. He felt strong and cocky, ironically, since it was weakness and depression that drove him to this.

"Did I break him?" Harry asked. Vernon promptly ignored him, not surprisingly.

Dudley shook his head, "No, I did. Harry, can I talk to you?" He shot a look at Daphne, "Alone."

Harry was taken aback and completely befuddled. What the heck was going on? _He _was supposed to act out of character, not the others. First Greengrass appeared, then Dudley was nice and smart, and now his uncle wasn't attempting to throttle him?

Had he stepped into a different dimension where he was evil and Voldemort the good guy?

"Harry?" Dudley waved his beefy hand in front of Harry's face. Harry then studied his hand; it wasn't as beefy as it had been last time. Actually, Dudley had lost a lot of weight.

Harry really looked at his cousin for the first time. Dudley didn't look like a grunting hog anymore; he looked like a starving buffalo.

Harry liked animal metaphors, all right? He always classified someone according to animals when he met them. Hermione was an owl, Ron a hound, Luna was a sleepy cat, Neville a shy mouse, Ginny was a salamander, Malfoy was an albino peacock (though he thought Moody did a good job of classifying him as a ferret), Mrs Weasley was a large bear and Mr Weasley a little fish (Mrs Weasley would one day gobble her husband up, or that was how Harry had seen it when he was eleven).

Daphne was a bird, because birds were beautiful, and Daphne definitely fell into the category of beauty. She knew it too, he knew it, heck, and even Dumbledore and Snape (a bat) knew it. Harry wasn't always sure those two men were male and had genitals.

"Harry!" Harry jumped at Dudley's yell.

"What?" Harry demanded, seeing Daphne and his uncle ogle him, "Oh, right, talk… let's go!"

Harry strode up the stairs to Dudley's room, hoping Daphne had the brains to follow him and stay as far away from Vernon Dursley as she possibly could.

Two pairs of feet following him up the stairway confirmed his suspicion.

"I'll go to your room, shall I?" Daphne said kindly and went ahead without waiting for an answer.

"And we'll go to my room," Dudley said, gulping before leading the way. Harry frowned, Dudley just gulped.

He'd never seen the other boy do that before.

"Okay, I know you're wondering why I'm friendly all of a sudden," Dudley started as soon as his bedroom door was closed, "and it's because I finally realised that how I've been treating is the same way I've been treated at school. Only I never…" Dudley broke off.

Harry was appalled. Scared. Disgusted.

"Dudley, what did they do there?" Harry heard himself ask.

Dudley gave a grave smile before lifting an eyebrow, "What do you think?"

Harry blanched and shivered. They'd raped him. That's what Harry thought, it would make perfect sense.

"Dud… Dudley, did they… did they… rape... you?" Harry had difficulty getting the words out, because the idea struck him as impossible. Dudley was intimidating; he knew that too… maybe he'd overplayed his hand?

Dudley nodded his head, "Yeah. One did, and he swore that he'd kill me if anyone found out."

Harry's mouth fell open, "And?"

"Harry, I'm not entirely retarted!" Dudley broke out, "I bet that I wasn't the only one he'd done it to, so I took action."

"Then you are much braver than I thought." Harry said bluntly. Daphne was right when she said he had no tact.

"Wow, thanks Harry," Dudley said sarcastically, "look, I wasn't a very nice person to you all those years, and despite all that you saved my life, I want to say thank you and say I'm sorry."

"Dudley – you're not an illiterate buffoon." Harry mused, causing Dudley to roll his eyes.

"I decided to do what I want, all right?" Dudley was getting annoyed, "This must be very shocking for you, but I have a brain of my own."

Harry laughed. He hadn't laughed a real laugh in quite a while, and it sounded odd in his own ears. Not to mention his laughter turned into a coughing fit.

"I'm sorry; this is such a new side to you. I always thought you were a pig with a wig, but now I see a possible politician." Harry tried to keep a straight face, but failed. Dudley's lips quirked, but he didn't elaborate.

Harry calmed down, enough to let the words Dudley said sink in.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said sincerely, he hadn't had that experience first hand, but he knew enough to know it was awful, "no one deserves that."

"Nor does anyone deserve what I've put you through," Dudley persisted, "and I'm sorry."

"So am I." Harry admitted, taking his cousin's outstretched hand.

Harry left after that, but that wasn't all that had happened to Dudley.

He had been one of the big guys on campus and everyone was terrified of him. That was why, when he found himself a victim of rape, he lost all status. He learned that teenagers were cruel beasts, because they pushed him around, forgetting that he was a boxing champion and twice their size.

Soon all that changed. Dudley fell into a deep depression. He refused to eat; he refused to go to boxing practice. His friends stared to worry about him. Yes, he had those, three named Peter, Ivan and Marcus; they were concerned about him because Dudley never gave up. If he was one thing, it was stupidly stubborn.

Peter was his roommate in the hostel. He noticed the lost weight first, and then he saw marks on Dudley's arm. He didn't talk to Dudley about it, but he didn't exactly know what to do either, so he spoke with the other two – and the decision was unanimous: intervention.

That night he came across a bloody Dudley, his breathing shallow, a note taped to the bedpost. He acted quickly. And Dudley got to know what true friendship felt like.

Dudley smiled a bit. When he got back to school in the new year, he'd be at the top of his game and back to being the champion boxer. He would make a case against his attacker and force the others to admit what he'd done to them.

Because sometimes life decides to knock you down, but it's in order to make you a better you.

. . .

Harry shook his head. Unbelievable. Bloody unbelievable. That just showed you, no one was safe.

And Dudley could use sarcasm effectively. He was no Snape, of course, that expertise could only come from years of experience. Draco would be there in a few years.

Harry ventured to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He'd hidden his 'tools' here, under the basin and out of sight. He drew them out again to make sure no one had touched them – and they were untouched, unseen and unheard of.

Harry smiled grimly.

Now just to get Daphne to fall asleep.

He scurried to his aunt and uncle's room, fishing out two sleeping pills before scurrying downstairs to make tea.

"Boy!" Vernon called him.

"My name is Harry," Harry said coldly, sticking his head into the living room, "what?"

"Don't mouth off to me!" Vernon yelled at him. There was Harry's favourite shade of red again!

"Then don't treat me like an animal," Harry found himself saying, "treat me like you have never treated me before, with respect, and I'll give you some in return. If you've earned it." Harry had to add the last part, the temptation was just too much.

He was acting a lot more recklessly as of late. And while that might be Gryffindor trait, the things he was saying were more in the line of what a Slytherin would say. The words were cruel and hurtful, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

Harry Potter had lost all hope. And that was dangerous.

"This girl…"

"Is my girlfriend from school, yes, and she is not insane, I assure you." Harry said calmly, turning around and heading up the stairs with the tea, ignoring his uncle's calls.

He wondered what Daphne would do when she found him in the morning.

He prodded his bedroom door open with a foot. She was seated on his bed, already out of her day clothes and back in the tight shirt and shorts.

He extended the hand with the cup towards her. She took it, surprised, with a quiet thank you. He didn't see her eyes narrowing.

He turned around briefly and found a matrass, tossing a pillow and blanket on top of it. He wouldn't need it, it was just for show. As soon as she was asleep, he would sneak out. There was no doubt in his mind that she would try to stop him if she knew. She was that way, or that was what he deduced from her actions against her father.

She set her cup down and left for the loo. Harry peeked inside it to see she hadn't taken a sip yet. He groaned, frustrated, she would ruin his plan!

"Damn," He muttered to himself.

"Muttering to yourself, Potter?" Daphne asked, back from the loo, though her fingers were shaking the tiniest bit.

Harry shook it off, why would she be shaking?

"Yeah," He answered carefully, as if to say 'so?'.

"Going to sleep?" She asked next, and this time he was sure he heard a nervous edge in her voice.

"Yeah, in a little while." He said airily.

She yawned and climbed onto his bed, "Well, I'll head on." She curled into a ball, not even bothering to get under the covers.

Harry smiled, maybe he didn't even need her to drink the tea.

He waited a half hour, to make sure she was asleep, making sure her breath was low, slow and even and her body made no jerky movements. He always knew people were awake when they shook their feet, it was a dead giveaway.

He stood up and headed for the bathroom. He got the white bag from underneath the basin and returned to his room.

The bag was full of different kinds of sleeping pills. He'd been buying them throughout the summer and hid them from his family.

Harry intended to take them all tonight. He didn't even take a glass of water with him to help the process of swallowing.

His thoughts turned dark... but he didn't want to think of any of it. Of Sirius being gone, of the Dark Lord being back, of the horrible nightmares invading his mind night in and night out, convincing him he wasn't fit for the job of saving the wizarding world...

He broke the seal on the first bottle, opened it and took out two. He wanted to die in his sleep, after all, not choking on too many pills.

He took two and, at the last moment, drank it with his tea. He swallowed the capsules with difficulty, there was a lump in his throat.

He reached for more but Daphne tackled him to the floor. Limbs flailings everywhere, he had no idea what was going on.

"Get off me!" He yelled. She laughed, pinning his arms above his head. What the… he thought she was asleep! How long had she been awake? Had she even been asleep in the first place?

"No." She said firmly, leaning down. She was watching him closely, literally.

"Yes! Get off!" He yelled. He hoped he wouldn't disturb his relatives, them seeing his position would just top it off.

"I said no, Potter," She said again, leaving no room to argue.

"Why not?" He moaned, quite childishly.

"I like the way you look in your boxers," She said, winking. Harry flushed, realizing she was dressed in very little, and that made him (and his boxers) suddenly very uncomfortable.

He snapped out of his suicidal daze for the moment, feeling arousal course through his veins. He wasn't a rock, and Daphne Greengrass was a very pretty and curvaceous being.

"Daphne, get off." He looked away from her eyes, he wanted to force himself out of this state, force his erection down and go on with his plan.

"Daphne, is it?" She asked, lifting a playful eyebrow. Harry swore to himself, he hadn't even noticed that.

"Yes! That is your name!" He yelled out, his erection wasn't going anywhere and the way she looked at him didn't help matters either.

"You've always called me Greengrass, though."

Harry sighed, feeling defeated. He'd been hoping to end it all tonight, but he hadn't wanted to make a mess of things, that's why he'd chosen the pills.

"I was hoping it would distract you," He lied.

She laughed, moving her hips lower, settling on his groin, "No, Potter."

He couldn't believe it. Moments ago he'd been planning his suicide... Now Daphne Greengrass was straddling him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice thick, his eyes clouded, though more in arousal than confusion, though confusion was there too.

"Aren't you enjoying this?" She asked with an innocent smile. Harry wanted to growl and snap at her, but she grinded into his groin again, and a low moan escaped his mouth. She was still about an inch away from his mouth.

"Distracting you," Daphne answered, her hot breath playing across his wet lips, "I can't let you kill yourself, Potter, this world needs you."

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before slapping him over the head with a book, successfully knocking the already sleepy boy out.

. . .

Harry woke up hours later, disoriented, groggy and pissed off. He looked around, seeing he was on his bed, tucked under the covers, whilst someone was sitting near him, casting a shadow over him. A shadow at nighttime... How odd.

"Harry?" She asked, concerned, leaning forward, her blonde hair swinging forwards. She looked exhausted and her hair was dishevelled.

"Harry, is it?" He answered, confused. He couldn't remember what had happened, his head hurt too much.

"Yes, and forget the pills, I flushed them all." She said. Then he remembered.

"Daphne?"

"Are we going to be doing that permanently from now on?"

"Yes, so, Daphne?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you do that?" He was refering to her earlier actions.

"Hit you with a book? You were being stupid." She answered, and he knew she was playing stupid.

"No, I mean, why'd you… well, make yourself cheap, if I can put it that way?"

"You can, and suicide is the coward's escape, Potter, you are not a coward. I knew if you could just think clearly, or even if you talked to someone, you would leave this stupid idea of yours." She said clearly, crossing her legs.

"Why do you care?"

"I'm not saying I do, but the wizarding world needs you, and I'd be daft in letting you kill yourself."

"So you act like a prostitute and straddle me?"

"Potter – let's get one thing straight: This world needs you, and I would do _anything _to ascertain you don't disappoint them."

. . .

**A/N: I know it's weird... But I thought I'd dive right into the deep side.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Didn't expect an update this quickly, did you? Neither did I, but I had a quarter or so of this written, so no harm no foul. This is to make up for a six month absence.**

**Review Responses**

**Lordban: **Yes, she did that. The hell with what Harry wants, as long as Harry saves their asses, see later in this chapter, he's pissed off too.

**Pinellas62: **No, I intend to update at the very least once in two months, and I apologise for my absence, it's just that after I wrote chapter 1, I started to write chapter 2, and it didn't seem what I wanted it to be, so I started over. Thanks for the positive feedback, though.

**Man of Constant Sorrow: **I have no intention of throwing either Hermione (or Ron) to the side, the bashing is for another character, I don't usually condone of bashing, but a lot of people won't like it.

**Hood's Gate: **Gap short enough? ;)

**PaC: **I fixed what you pointed out, and as to the 'mug of water' comment, it's briefly discussed here.

**A note: Dudley has done a sharp u-turn, yes, and he had a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on, he's been drummed with "Harry's just Harry", but he's beating the voice. He's had a few months to practice.**

**Chapter 3: Calling all the monsters**

Daphne had no idea why she'd just done that. She'd just jumped Potter! And she had _no _tact at the moment, saying she'd do anything to save the savior of the wizarding world, completely forgetting that he wasn't an 'it' but a human being. She should've saved him.

And this place was so utterly bizarre. She was here barely a day and Potter already committing suicide, or attempting to, and she couldn't figure out why.

Potter had been admittedly harsh, calling her a 'prostitute', at least he hadn't been vulgar and called her a downright slut, there was something there.

Why would Potter want to kill himself? What was so bad that he couldn't face the world anymore? Potter was the redefinition of Gryffindor, bravery galore, yet he chose to quit and run away? Idiot. Now she had to take care of him too. Why not just Avada himself?

This wasn't normal. And normality wasn't exactly popular in the wizarding world.

It was morning, Potter was asleep again. She'd thrown the pills down the drain, hoping with all her might it would answer the problem. Of course it didn't. it wasn't that simple.

Suicidal people always got some sort of therapy, or that was what Daphne thought, and she knew Potter wouldn't be okay with that. He wouldn't want anyone to know… or at least that was how she saw it. _She_ wouldn't want anyone to know.

Glancing at the sleeping boy, she sighed, what could've made him so utterly miserable?

. . .

Daphne tapped her fingers on the Dursleys' kitchen table, impatient. She was used to a certain way of things, and those things included her breakfast being ready when she woke up. The house elves loved her, she knew, because she was kind to them. They were always kind to her, she simply returned the favour.

Potter slapped a wooden spoon on her hands. "You can make your own damn breakfast if you're going to be demanding about it!" He snapped at her.

"I'm the guest in this scene, aren't I, Potter?" She knew she was pushing Potter. When they'd woken up, they didn't say anything about the exchange, but got dressed hurriedly and raced to the kitchen.

It was empty, but that might be because it was really early.

He went to the fridge and got out a carton of eggs, then he looked at the wooden spoon in his hand and set it down slowly, as if he was afraid it might bite.

Once in front of the stove, he glanced at her over his shoulder. He would ask any moment now.

"Daphne?" Harry ventured, turning back to her as the oil started to heat up.

She looked up lazily, contrasting with her heart hammering in her chest.

"Why did you do it?"

What a funny turn of events, she was supposed to be the one asking that question.

"We discussed this last night," She pointed out, "I don't want this world to go into chaos."

"So, as long as I save all of your sorry asses, it's fine?" He asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, "That is some twisted logic."

She rolled her eyes at him, "Potter, you're a hero, kids look up to you for mentoring and adults are envious of your leadership skills, you can easily beat Dumbledore where followers is concerned. Even half of my house is willing to follow if you just ask – you can save this world from Voldemort by speaking, and that's what makes you such a dangerous enemy."

He gaped at her before swallowing, "Again, as long as I save your asses?" He repeated.

"Potter – you took me in when I had no home. Of course I'd stop you."

She was met with silence. Soon she smelled something burning.

"Potter, the eggs!" She shouted just as the pan exploded.

. . .

Harry was being bandaged up at the local muggle hospital, he'd burnt his left arm badly when the pan exploded. Daphne had broken out in a full panic attack, causing Dudley to arrive on the scene with haste. He'd loaded his screaming cousin over his shoulders and went to the neighbour, who took the trio to the nearest hospital.

Dudley waited, seemingly having an internal conversation.

_He's just Harry – why should you care?_

_He's my cousin._

_So? He's just Harry._

_That's what my parents always say._

_And it's true._

_No, it's not. He saved me._

_And since when do you think for yourself?_

_Since I tried to kill myself!_

_And suddenly you're Harry's best friend? What on earth is the matter with you?_

_I'm not his best friend! I'm trying to change for the better, because who I was, was an annoying idiot with no inhibitions or restrictions! I was always the favourite, always got the best, while he had to live of nothing more than my hand-me-downs. I never complained, because, in all honesty, who would complain if they got the most expensive things and the most attention? I just never realized that Harry was a person too, he was someone with feelings, and I realized when I was brutally raped by that madman! When a bully became the bullied._

_And what will dear Harry think, Dudley? Won't he find it suspicious, this 360 spin you've made, being friendly, caring…_

_I don't care what he thinks. He was my first victim, and I want to make things right. I was a fucking bastard, and it's awful that it took... what happened to open my eyes._

The other voice had no answer.

Suddenly Harry being equally friendly towards him made sense, didn't it?

Harry was acting entirely out of character those last few days, including smiling at Petunia, which was something not many people did.

Maybe acting happy would make it go away. He'd found the pills under the sink a few days ago, but hadn't figured out what they meant until he spotted Daphne flush them down the toilet.

He was certain his cousin had tried to kill himself, and she'd been there to stop it. He had no idea where she came from, but he was grateful to her. The guilt would've eaten him up alive if Harry'd actually succeeded. And that was purely selfish on Dudley's part.

He'd changed a lot in the past year. Or past six months, rather, after it happened. It was an unbelievable turn of events, he couldn't believe it when someone came to him, pushed him up against a wall and had his way with him. It was even more shocking when it happened a second time.

The culprit started to target him some more, in classes, in the hallways of the school… welcome to the life of boarding school.

Welcome to hell.

. . .

Harry was finally bandaged up. Dudley and Harry talked for a little while. Dudley explained how he was conflicted, how he was struggling with his thoughts…

Finally Dudley couldn't keep it in anymore, "Harry… did you try to… to kill yourself?"

"Did Daphne tell you?" Harry asked immediately, unimpressed.

"No, I found the meds," Dudley explained; Harry sagged, his body pulling into itself as fear overruled, Dudley didn't need anymore confirmation, "Why?"

"Why do you care, Dudley?" Harry asked defensively. This was the Harry Dudley knew.

"Because you're my cousin." Dudley answered simply.

"That's never stopped you before." Harry pointed out. Dudley growled at his inner voice, it had a point when it said Harry would be suspicious.

"Because I was a moron who blindly believed what his parents said!" Dudley blew up. Harry couldn't help but see the irony, Purebloods weren't the only ones with that problem, it seemed.

"I'm not going to trust you, just 'cause you suddenly have a mind of your own."

"And that's fine, but you didn't answer my question, Harry, why did you do it?" Dudley sent the direction back to its original topic, not wanting Harry to be able to escape.

"Dudley, I just said I didn't trust you, why would I tell you?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Because I've been there," Dudley decided to open up about it, "because I couldn't handle being bullied and mocked, I tried to slit my wrists."

"What?" Harry spluttered.

"Yes, I tried to slit my wrists. But my friends - before you ask, yes I have those - found me, and helped me over it, and when I go back to school I'm not going to take anything anymore, I'm Big D, after all."

Harry stared at Dudley. Who knew the starving buffalo had enough emotions and feelings to go to drastic measures?

"I'm tired." Harry said finally.

"No, Harry, you're not going to get out of this..."

"I meant I'm tired of being used," Harry corrected himself, sitting down on a nearby bench, motioning for Dudley to join him, "I'm the saviour of the Wizarding world, Dudley, they're all counting on me to win."

"Harry, you're a kid," Dudley said, awed.

"I know! Let me say this, I've come face to face with my parents' murderer three times now, and I can't do anything to him!" Harry burst out, "When I was eleven, I killed a man simply by touching him - he broke apart as I touched him, he turned to ash! How was I supposed to cope normally after killing a man?"

"Didn't they prosecute you?" Dudley couldn't help but ask, causing Harry to laugh bitterly.

"They didn't believe it! They thought his possession by Voldemort overwhelmed him and his body so much that he just burst into flames." Harry said sourly, still irked at the fact that he hadn't gotten at least counseling for that incident, but no, he was Harry Potter expected to perform extraordinary feats as if they were everyday happenings.

"Oh, that's more believable, isn't it?" Dudley said sarcastically. He couldn't believe it: Harry had killed someone when he was eleven! How was that even possible?

At least he knew who Voldemort was.

"That's not even half of it! When I was twelve, I heard voices, or a voice, saying it smelled blood and wanted to kill." Harry went on.

"Vampires?" Dudley guessed, causing his cousin to laugh.

"No, not exactly, a giant snake that killed anyone who wasn't a pureblood or a halfblood."

Dudley at least knew what those terms meant, even if he'd never used them with his parents.

"Go on." Dudley said.

"Well, in that year, people thought I was evil and the possible reincarnation of Hitler and Voldemort," Harry said, "I can talk to snakes and they can talk to me... Remember that boa I set on you the summer before I went to Hogwarts?"

Dudley grimaced, "Vividly."

"Well, I told a snake not to attack a classmate, and it listened..." Harry trailed off.

"Awesome!" Dudley said dreamily, wondering what it'd be like to have those powers, his classmates would think twice before messing with him, he could set a python on them! Or maybe that massive anaconda from his favourite movie...

"No, Dudley, it wasn't. They turned on me for no reason but I could talk to snakes. Even my friends almost did - yes, Dudley, I have those too." He added, suppressing a smile. Dudley liked this Harry way more.

"So you can talk to snakes?"

"Yeah - and the giant one I told you about? They're called basalisks, and just looking them in the eye can kill you."

Dudley blanched, "I thought basalisks were half-chicken, half-snake beings, or at least that's what I read somewhere."

"You can read?"

Dudley glowered at Harry for that, "That was unnecessary."

"Just getting my two knuts in." Harry held up his hands in defense.

"Potter, your nuts aren't coming anywhere near me." Dudley said quickly, causing Harry to burst into laughter.

"Knuts are money, genius! Our money!" Harry said between laughs.

Dudley's face became Harry's favourite shade of red, causing Harry to laugh even more.

"Go on with the story!" Dudley urged, wanting to forget his embarrassing display.

"Fine, well, I saved my friends' sister from a young Voldemort, almost died down there, that damn snake had bitten me! If it hadn't been for Fawkes crying on me, I would've died!"

"Fawkes?"

"Dumbledore's bird." Harry said shortly.

"Dumbledore?" Dudley sounded confused. He knew he'd heard the name before, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Hogwarts' headmaster, Fawkes is a phoenix, phoenix tears have healing powers and don't you dare ask me what Hogwarts is." Harry snapped, irate.

"Oh… well, did you at least get counseling for that?" Dudley asked. He actually was concerned for his cousin, despite years of "Harry is just Harry" that had been beaten into him, figuratively speaking. He didn't understand it. He was also a lot more sociable.

What had happened to him no one deserved, but, in a way, Dudley was grateful, if it hadn't happened, he would still be dumb, illiterate and moronic. He didn't like who he used to be. It was a cruel happening, but nothing compared to what Harry had gone through.

"No, I didn't, and I keep asking myself 'why?'," Harry said, "Okay, then, when I was thirteen, I think you remember me blowing up Aunt Marge and Sirius Black?"

"That was hilarious once I figured out what was going on, and he's your serial killer godfather, isn't he?" Dudley asked, having no better way of putting it.

"Yes, he was."

"Was?"

"More on that later. My parents had three friends at school, Sirius, Remus and Peter. But, as it turned out, Peter betrayed them. I saw him. I could've killed him. But I didn't. Remus transformed first. He's a werewolf, in case you were wondering. Peter got away. That year was the first year I battled dementors." Harry sighed, this was getting long-winded.

Dudley shuddered. Those things were his biggest fear.

"We didn't get to clear Sirius' name. He wasn't the serial killer you all thought he was, that was Peter."

"This is messed up. And you must be equally messed up."

"That's not where it ended. Fourth year I was entered into a deadly tournament, against my will by an evil man, it included the wizarding turning their backs on me _again_, even my best friend did. It was only after I battled a dragon that he came to his senses. After that, the tournament stole both my best friends, and I had to go find them at the bottom of a lake filled with creatures that were against me. The third task I had to go through a maze with another cacophony of evil creatures. The other champion and I both won… only not in the traditional manner. We ended up in a graveyard – don't ask how – where Voldemort was being resurrected. He killed Cedric." Harry looked down,biting his lip. That was still a terrible memory. He still got nightmares, but he didn't dare tell anyone.

Dudley was horrified. He'd _mocked _Harry for it. He wished he'd known. If he could, he wouldn't have made Harry's life hell with that.

"Harry, I am so sorry," Dudley said sincerely, "I didn't know. I'm really sorry…"

Harry put a hand on Dudley's shoulder, "It's fine, Dudley, you didn't know."

"Still, I was such an idiot…"

"Yes, you were." Harry agreed.

"I'm sorry."

"If you apologise again, I'm going to leave." Harry threatened.

"Okay, okay, go on." Dudley sobered up.

"Then, last year, they all turned on me again. Safe for a handful, this time Ron stayed. He fought for me. Everyone thought I was insane for saying Voldemort was back, they even sent in a mad witch who made me carve this," Harry lifted his hand where the words 'I must not tell lies' glinted in the low light, "not literally, she used a magical method. She's also the one that sent those dementors our way last summer."

"Is that legal in your world? The carving thing, and I really hate her now, those things were awful."

"Dudley, it's not legal in any world, the carving or sending out those dementors," Harry pointed out; Dudley shrugged – he didn't know, "last year I was plagued with dreams, nightmares. Seems I have a connection of sorts with Voldemort," Harry motioned to his scar, "and he manipulated me into going into the Ministry of Magic to save Sirius, who he made me believe he'd captured. Dudley, Sirius was something I never had: a father and a brother, he was the only family I had left! I couldn't leave him!" Harry's voice was panicked. Dudley put a tentative hand on Harry's elbow, which, surprisingly, made Harry breathe easier.

"I'm here now. Even if mum and dad aren't, I am." Dudley said lowly.

"He died," Harry croaked, "He died that night. And it was my fault."

Dudley could see why Harry was suicidal. He never got any counseling or even a book on how to handle what had happened to him. Harry was completely messed up, and it was surprising he hadn't cracked sooner. Dudley knew he'd go insane if someone messed with his parents. They weren't perfect, and the way they treated Harry wasn't what he preferred, but he still loved them.

"And Daphne? Where does she come into the picture?"

"I have no idea. She's from the rival house, Slytherin, and came here with a white flag," Harry shrugged, "I wasn't about to turn her away."

"Harry, I want you to promise me something," Dudley said suddenly, causing Harry to look up, "Whenever you feel down or just like talking, call me, or send me a letter with your owl, okay? I'm going to make it up to you, everything I've done and haven't done. Will you promise me?"

Harry stared at Dudley. He hadn't even told him about Dumbledore ignoring him, or Snape's hellish Occlumency lessons, or the DA…

But something made Harry nod, saying: "I promise."

"By the way, what did you mean by "I win a mug of water" with dad yesterday?" Dudley asked.

"I have no idea, it just came out." Harry said honestly.

. . .

When the trio got home, Petunia was furious, her hands one her hips.

"What have you done to my kitchen? Do you know how long it took me to clean it? And where you have you been? Dudley, why are you with him? He hasn't tried anything on you, has he?" She ran to her son, smoothing down his hair. Dudley gently pushed her away.

"I took him to the hospital, mum, he burned his arm." He motioned to Harry's bandaged arm. Harry fixated a pair of steely eyes on his aunt, daring her to say anything insulting.

She sniffed indignantly, "I don't see why, he's just Harry."

"Mum, with all due respect, I love you and you know that, but Harry's a person, so kindly shut up about him unless you want me to leave."

Harry and Petunia both openly stared at him. Harry wondering if Dudley's awakening had really been _that_ hard, and Petunia wondering what the heck Harry had done to him, she knew there were some mind-controlling thing Lily once told her about, but she also knew about the Trace. She'd only forgotten about it until the previous summer.

"Dad home yet?" Dudley asked, walking past his mother. Harry and Daphne followed, ducking their heads to avoid looking at Petunia, who looked as though she was a cat and someone just took her cream away.

"You know he works until five." She answered brusquely.

Daphne was a complete outsider in the situation, but she knew what Dudley had done must've been big, seeing as two people had been staring at him.

The woman's exclamation of Harry just being Harry took her by surprise, he was Harry bloody Potter, the boy who lived, a legend that survived against the odds, he was a hero… why couldn't this woman see that?

Why couldn't everyone? It was awful, the wizarding world turned its back on Harry at every second turn, it had happened thrice now, and she could see why he would get tired of it.

As she said to Potter earlier, half of Slytherin would follow if he just asked. She didn't get why he'd never asked. The Slytherins weren't as bad as everyone thought. They just kept to themselves, they didn't shower Potter in attention like the other did. If anything, they knew what it was like to be bombarded with attention, and they found it awkward, so they held back.

Only Draco and Blaise enjoyed attention. And she meant that with the greatest respect.

Harry excused himself, skulking to his room. Dudley invited Daphne to dinner, she didn't know to accept or decline. On one side, she was hungry, on the other side, this would be an awkward dinner.

. . .

The meal was, as she'd predicted, stiff. Mr Dursley was at work, and Mrs Dursley wasn't nearly as accepting of Daphne's abilities as Dudley was. He'd tried, quite a few times, to start a conversation, but it always died into a thick silence.

"What's wrong with him?" Mrs Dursley asked her son near the end of the meal. Daphne didn't look up sharply, like she wanted to, but kept her head bowed over her current forkful.

"He's sad, mum," Dudley answered, "really sad. She knows why." He pointed his fork at Daphne, who jumped away from it. Did she know? All she knew was of Sirius Black's recent death and the return of Voldemort. Maybe that's why he'd done it? Because Sirius Black was his godfather and, as she understood, the two were quite close.

"Careful where you poke that thing!" She scowled. Dudley laughed and apologised.

"Well?" Mrs Dursley looked at her. She shrugged, setting her cutlery down. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't feel like you care enough for me to enlighten you." It was out before Daphne could stop herself. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she beat it down and met Mrs Dursley's eyes steadily. "You obviously think he's a waste of space."

"I do not think he's a waste of space!" Dudley defended himself.

"Not you, your mother. Now, ma'am, I am a pureblood, and considering Lily Potter's lineage, I assume you know what that is. I was born and raised to be the perfect wife for a pureblood husband. I know a waste of space when I see one, and, trust me on this, Harry Potter is not a waste of space." She had no idea why she'd felt compelled to mention her blood status, but it seemed to have gotten her point across.

Mrs. Dursley smirked – and Daphne saw Dudley stare, obviously it was an alien expression.

"I also know that most purebloods are incest-ridden, seeing as you can't marry others, and there are so few purebloods left."

Both Daphne and Dudley gasped, Dudley out of disbelief and Daphne out of insult torn.

She was up from her seat, her wand aloft and trained at the older woman.

"I could do it," Daphne threatened, "I'm 17, I don't have the Trace on me anymore."

"But you don't know how, do you?" Mrs Dursley wasn't calling on what she though was a bluff.

"Oh, I know full well how to cast an array of torture curses, ma'am, I won't necessarily kill you." Daphne said through clenched teeth. Petunia's face became a shade lighter.

"Please, Daphne," Dudley said, standing up and swatting her wand down, "Mum's bark is worse than her bite."

Daphne reluctantly lowered her wand, but she kept looking at Mrs Dursley as if she expected the stoic woman would attack her.

She sat down, but glared continuously at Mrs. Dursley, who didn't seem phased at all.

. . .


End file.
